CHIPS A GERMAN WORKSHOP. MAX MULLER, M. A., FELLOW OP ALL SOULS COLLEGE, OXFORD. VOLUME 1L ESSAYS ON MYTHOLOGY, TBADITiONS, AND CUSTOMS. NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 1890. [Published by arrangement with die Author.] Hi VERBID J, CAMBRIDGE: TXBXOTTPED AND PRINTED 3V a. o. HOCQUTON AM> OOMPAMT. StacK Annex 5013665 To JACOB BERNAYS, PROFESSOR IN TUB UNIVERSITY OF BONK IN MEMORY OF HAPPY HOURS. CONTENTS OF SECOND VOLUME. PAGE XVI. COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY, 1856 1 XVII. GREEK MYTHOLOGY, 1858 142 XVIII. GREEK LEGENDS, 1867 154 XIX. BELLEROPHON, 1855 ....... 170 XX. THE NORSEMEN IN ICELAND, 1858 187 XXI. FOLK-LORE, 1863 . . 195 XXII. ZULU NURSERY TALES, 1867 206 XXIII. POPULAR TALES FROM THK NORSE, 1859 . . . 217 XXIV. TALES OF THE WEST HIGHLANDS, 1861 . . . .237 XXV. ON MANNERS AND CUSTOMS, 1865 .... 248 XXVI. OUR FIGURES, 1363 284 XXVII. CASTE, 1853 295 IJIDKX . 865 XVI. COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. Phcedros. Dost thou see that very tall plane-tree? Soknitcs. Certainly I do. Pluedros. Tlere is shade there, and the wind is not too strong, and then is grass to sit, or.il' we like, to lie down. Sukriittt. Lead on then ! riiiulrus. Tell me. Sokrates, is it not from some place here they sy that Boreas <;arried away Oreithyia from the Ilissos? Sukrales. So the}' say. Plueilros. Should it not be fr sages, in order to introduce, as it were, Sokrates himself among the historians and critics of our own COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. O time, if he endeavors to make him bear witness " to the uselessness of digging for a supposed basis of truth " in the myths of the Greek world, he makes the ancient philosopher say more than he really said. Our object in considering the myths of the Greeks, or any other nation of antiquity, is so different from that of Sokrates, that the objections which he urged against his rational- izing contemporaries could hardly be said to apply to us. For what is it that makes us at the present day ask the question of the origin of the Greek myths ? Why do men study ancient history, acquire a knowl- edge of dead languages, and decipher illegible inscrip- tions ? What inspires them with an interest not only in the literature of Greece and Rome, but of ancient India and Persia, of Egypt and Babylonia ? Why do the puerile and often repulsive legends of savage tribes rivet their attention and engage their thoughts ? Have we not been told that there is more wisdom in "The Times " than in Thukydides ? Are not the novels of Walter Scott more amusing than Apollodoros ? or the works of Bacon more instructive than the cosmogony of the Purawas? What, then, gives life to the study of antiquity? What compels men, in the midst of these busy times, to sacrifice their leisure to studies apparently so unattractive and useless, if not the con- viction, that in order to obey the Delphic command- ment, in order to know what Man is, we ought to know what Man has been? This is a view as foreign to the mind of Sokrates as any of the principles of in- ductive philosophy by which men like Columbus, Leonardo da Vinci, Copernicus, Kepler, Bacon, and Galileo regenerated and invigorated the intellectual life of modern Europe. If we grant to Sokrates that the 4 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. chief object of philosophy is that man should know himself, we should hardly consider his means of arriv- ing at this knowledge adequate to so high an aim. To his mind man was preeminently the individual, without any reference to its being but one manifestation of a power, or, as he might have said, of an idea, realized in and through an endless variety of human souls. He is ever seeking to solve the mystery of human nature by brooding over his own mind, by watching the secret workings of the soul, by analyzing the organs of knowl- edge, and by trying to determine their proper limits; and thus the last result of his philosophy was, that he knew but one thing, and this was, that he knew noth- ing. To us, man is no longer this solitary being, com- plete in itself, and self-sufficient ; man to us is a brother among brothers, a member of a class, of a genus, or a kind, and therefore intelligible only with reference to his equals. The earth was unintelligible to the an- cients, because looked upon as a solitary being, without a peer in the whole universe ; but it assumed a new and true significance as soon as it rose before the eyes of man as one of many planets, all governed by the same laws, and all revolving around the same centre. It is the same with the human soul, and its nature stands before our mind in quite a different light since man has been taught to know and feel himself as a member of one great family, as one of the myriads of wandering stars, all governed by the same laws, and all revolving around the same centre, and all de- riving their light from the same source. The history of the world, or, as it is called, " Universal His- tory," has laid open new avenues of thought, and it has .enriched our language with a word w.hich never COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 5 passed the lips of Sokrates, or Plato, or Aristotle, mankind. 1 Where the Greek saw barbarians, we see brethren ; where the Greek saw heroes and demi-gods, we see our parents and ancestors ; where the Greek saw nations (e^vr/), we see mankind, toiling and suffering, separated by oceans, divided by language, and severed by national enmity, yet evermore tending, under a divine control, towards the fulfillment of that inscruta- ble purpose for which the world was created, and man placed in it, bearing the image of God. History, therefore, with its dusty and mouldering pages, is to us as sacred a volume as the book of nature. In both we read, or we try to read, the reflex of the laws and thoughts of a Divine Wisdom. As we acknowledge no longer in nature the working of demons or the manifestation of an evil principle, so we deny in history an atomistic conglomerate of chances, or the despotic rule of a mute fate. We believe that there is nothing irrational in either history or nature, and that the human mind is called upon to read and to revere, in both the manifestations of a Divine Power. Hence, even the most ancient and shattered pages of traditions are dear to us, nay dearer, perhaps, than the more co- pious chapters of modern times. The history of those distant ages and distant men apparently so foreign to our modern interests assumes a new charm as soon as we know that it tells us the story of our own i ace, of our own family, nay, of our own selves. Sometimes, when opening a desk which we have not opened for many years, when looking over letters which we have not read for many years, we read on for some time with a cold indifference, and though we see if; is our own handwriting, and though we meet 1 See Cicero, Tusc. Dup. v. 37. 6 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. with names once familiar to our heart, yet we can hardly believe that we wrote these letters, that we felt those pangs, that we shared in those delights, till at last the past draws near and we draw near to the past, and our heart grows warm, and we feel again as we felt of old, and we know that these letters were our letters. It is the same in reading ancient history. At first it seems something strange and foreign ; but the more in- tensely we read, the more our thoughts are engaged and our feelings warmed ; and the history of those ancient men becomes, as it were, our own history, their sufferings our sufferings, their joys our joys. Without this sympathy, history is a dead letter, and might as well be burnt and forgotten ; while, if it is once enlivened by this feeling, it appeals not only to the an- tiquarian, but to the heart of every man. We find ourselves on a stage on which many acts have been acted before us, and where we are suddenly called to act our own part. To know the part which we have to act ourselves, we ought to know the character of those whose place we take. We naturally look back to the scenes on which the curtain of the past has fallen, for we believe that there ought to be one thought per- vading the whole drama of mankind. And here His- tory steps in, and gives us the thread which connects the present with the past. Many scenes, it is true, are lost beyond the hope of recovery ; and the most inter- esting, the opening scenes of the childhood of the hu- man race, are known to us by small fragments only. But for this very reason the antiquarian, if he descries a relic of those early times, grasps it with the eagerness of a biographer who finds unexpectedly some scraps written by his hero when yet a child entirely him- COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 7 self, and before the shadows of life had settled on his brow. In whatever language it may be written, every line, every word, is welcome, that bears the impress of the early days of mankind. In our museums we col- lect the rude playthings of our hero's boyhood, and we try to guess from their colossal features the thoughts of the mind which they once reflected. Many things are still unintelligible to us, and the hieroglyphic language of antiquity records but half of the mind's unconscious intentions. Yet more and more the image of man, in whatever clime we meet him, rises before us, noble and pure from the very beginning : even his errors we learn to understand, even his dreams we begin to interpret. As far as we can trace back the footsteps of man, even on the lowest strata of history, we see that the divine gift of a sound and sober intellect be- longed to him from the very first ; and the idea of a humanity emerging slowly from the depths of an an- imal brutality can never be maintained again. The earliest work of art wrought by the human mind, more ancient than any literary document, and prior even to the first whisperings of tradition, the human language, forms an uninterrupted chain from the first dawn of history down to our own times. We still speak the language of the first ancestors of our race ; and this language, with its wonderful structure, bears witness against such gratuitous imputations. The for- mation of language, the composition of roots, the grad- ual discrimination of meanings, the systematic elabora- tion of grammatical forms, all this working which we can still see under the surface of our own speech, at- tests from the very first the presence of a rational mind of an artist as great, at least, as his work. 8 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. The period, during which expressions were coined for the most necessary ideas, such as pronouns, prepositions, numerals, and the household words of the simplest life, a period to which we must assign the first beginnings of a free and, as yet, hardly agglutin- ative grammar, a grammar not impressed with any individual or national peculiarities, yet containing the germs of all the Turanian, as well as the Aryan and Semitic forms of speech, this period forms the first in the history of man, the first, at least, to which even the keenest eye of the antiquarian and the phi- losopher can reach, and we call it the "Rhematic Period." This is succeeded by a second period, during which we must suppose that at least two families of language left the simply agglutinative, or nomadic stage of gram- mar, and received, once for all, that peculiar impress of their formative system which we still find in all the dialects and national idioms comprised under the names of " Semitic " and " Aryan," as distinguished from the " Turanian,'' the latter retaining to a much later period, and in some instances to the present day, that agglutinative reprodnctiveness which has rendered a traditional and metamorphic system of grammar im- possible, or has at least considerably limited its extent. Hence we do not find in the nomadic or Turanian lan- guages scattered from China to the Pyrenees, from Capo Comorin, across the Caucasus, to Lapland that traditional family likeness which enables us to treat the Teutonic, Celtic, Slavonic, Italic, Hellenic, Iranic, and Indie languages on one s id e an( j ^] ie Arabian, Ara- o o * mean, and Hebrew dialects on the other, as mere va- rieties of two specific forms of speech, in which, at a COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 9 very early period, and through influences decidedly political, if not individual and personal, the floating elements of grammar have been arrested and made to assume an amalgamated, instead of a merely agglutin- ative character. This second may be called the " Dia- lectic Period." Now. after these two periods, but before the appear- ance of the first traces of any national literature, there is a period, represented everywhere by the same char- acteristic features, a kind of Eocene period, com- monly called the " Mythological " or " Mythopoeic " Age. It is a period in the history of the human mind, perhaps the most difficult to understand, and the most likely to shake our faith in the regular progress of the human intellect. We can form a tolerably clear idea of the origin of language, of the gradual formation of grammar, and the unavoidable divergence of dialects and languages. We can understand, again, the earliest concentrations of political societies, the establishment of laws and customs, and the first beginnings of re- ligion and poetry. But between the two there is a gulf which it seems impossible for any philosophy to bridge over. We call it the " Mythic Period," and we have accustomed ourselves to believe that the Greeks, for instance, such as we find them represented to us in the Homeric poems, far advanced in the fine arts, acquainted with the refinements and comforts of life, such as we see at the palaces of Menelaos and Alki- noos, with public meetings and elaborate pleadings, with the mature wisdom of a Nestor and the cunning enterprise of an Odysseus, with the dignity of a Helena and the loveliness of a Nausikaa could have been preceded by a race of men whose chief amusement con- 10 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. sisted in inventing absurd tales about gods and other nondescript beings, a race of men, in fact, on whose tomb the historian could inscribe no better epigram than that on Bitto and Phainis. Although later poets may have given to some of these fables a charm of beauty, and led us to accept them as imaginative coin- positions, it is impossible to conceal the fact that, taken by themselves, and in their literal meaning, most of these ancient myths are absurd and irrational, and fre- quently opposed to the principles of thought, religion, and morality which guided the Greeks as soon as they appear to us in the twilight of traditional history. By whom, then, were these stories invented ? stories, we must say at once, identical in form and character, whether we find them on Indian, Persian, Greek, Ital- ian, Slavonic, or Teutonic soil. Was there a period of temporary insanity, through which the human mind had to pass, and was it a madness identically .the same in the south of India and in the north of Iceland ? It is impossible to believe that a people who, in the very infancy of thought, produced men like Thales, Hera- kleitos, and Pythagoras, should have consisted of idle talkers but a few centuries before the time of these sages. Even if we take only that part of mythology which refers to religion, in our sense of the word, or the myths which bear on the highest problems of phi- losophy, such as the creation, the relation of man to God, life and death, virtue and vice, myths generally the most modern in origin, we find that even this small portion, which might be supposed to contain some sober deas, or some pure and sublime conceptions, is unwor- thy of the ancestors of the Homeric poets or the Ionic philosophers. When the swineherd Eumaeos, unac- COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 11 quainted, perhaps, with the intricate system of the Olympian mythology, speaks of the Deity, he speaks like one of ourselves. " Eat," he says to Odysseus, " and enjoy what is here, for Gou will grant one thing, but another he will refuse, whatever he will in his mind, for he can do all things," 1 This, we may sup- pose, was the language of the common people at tin; time of Homer, and it is simple and sublime, if com- pared with what has been supposed one of the grandest conceptions of Greek mythology, that, namely, where Zeus, in order to assert his omnipotence, tells the gods, that if they took a rope, and all the gods and goddesses pulled on one side, they could not drag him down from the heaven to the earth ; while, if he chose, he could pull them all up, and suspend the earth and the sea from the summit of Olympos. What is more ridicu- lous than the mythological account of the creation of the human race by Deukalion and Pyrrha throwing stones behind them (a myth which owes its origin to a mere pun on Aaos and > uas) ? while we can hardly ex- pect, among pagans, a more profound conception of the relation between God and man, than the saying of Herakleitos, " Men are mortal gods, and gods are im- mortal men." Let us think of the times which could bear a Lykurgos and a Solon, which could found an Areopagos and the Olympic games, and how can we imagine that, a few generations before that time, the highest notions of the Godhead among the Greeks were adequately expressed by the story of Uranos maimed by Kronos, of Kronos eating his children. \ Od. XIV. 443. 'Eo-flie, Scu.ij.6vie fccVtuc, xai repireo TOicrSe O'a irdpean' 6ebs Se TO ft.ev Sucre. TO &' eacrei, *OTTI Ktv u Ovfj.tZ i8e\ji' ivVarai yap airavra. 12 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. swallowing a stone, and vomiting out alive his whole progeny ? Among the lowest tribes of Africa and America we hardly find anything more hideous and re- volting. It is shutting our eyes to the difficulties which stare us in the face, if we say, like Mr. Grote, that this mythology was " a past which was never present ; '* and it seems blasphemy to consider these fables of the heathen world as corrupted and misinter- preted fragments of a divine revelation once granted to the whole race of mankind a view so frequently advocated by Christian divines. These myths have been made by man at a certain period of history. There was an age which produced these myths, an age half-way between the Dialectical Period, pre- senting the human race gradually diverging into dif- ferent families and languages, and the National Period, exhibiting to us the earliest traces of nationalized lan- guage, and a nationalized literature in India, Persia, Greece, Italy, and Germany. The fact is there, and we must either explain it, or admit in the gradual growth of the human mind, as in the formation of the earth, some violent revolutions, which broke the regularity of the early strata of thought, and convulsed the human mind, like volcanoes and earthquakes arising from some unknown cause, below the surface of history. Much, however, Avill be gained if, without being driven to adopt so violent and repugnant a theory, we are able to account in a more intelligible manner for the creation of myths. Their propagation and sub- sistence in later times, though strange in many re- spects, is yet a much less intricate problem. The human mind has an inborn reverence for the past, and the religious piety of the man flows from the same COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 13 natural spring as the filial piety of the child. Even though the traditions of past ages may appear strange, wild, and sometimes immoral or impossible, each gen- , eration accepts them, and fashions them so that they can be borne with again, and even made to disclose a true and deeper meaning. Many of the natives of India, though versed in European science, and imbued with the principles of a pure natural theology, yet bow down and worship the images of Vishnu and *5>'iva. They know that these images are but stone ; they con- fess that their feelings revolt against the impurities attributed to these gods by what they call their sacred writings ; yet there are honest Brahmans who will maintain that these stories have a deeper meaning, that immorality being incompatible with a divine being, a mystery must be supposed to be concealed in these time-hallowed fables, a mystery which an inquiring and reverent mind may hope to fathom. Nay, even where Christian missionaries have been successful, where the purity of the Christian faith has won the heart of a native, and made the extravagant absurdi- ties of the Puranas insupportable to him, the faith of his early childhood will still linger on and break out occasionally in unguarded expressions, as several of the myths of antiquity have crept into the legends of the Church of Rome. 1 We find frequent indications in ancient history that the Greeks themselves were shocked by the stories told of their gods; yet as even in our own times faith with most men is not faith in God or in truth, but faith in the faith of others, we may understand why even men like Sokrates were un- 1 See Grimm's Intr jduction to his great work on Teutonic Mythology, second edition, 1844, p. xxxi. 14 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. willing to renounce their belief in what had been be- lieved by their fathers. As their idea of the Godhead became purer, they felt that the idea of perfection, in- volved in the idea of a divine being, excluded the possibility of immoral gods. Pindar, as pointed out by Otfried M tiller, 1 changes many myths because they are not in harmony with his purer conceptions of the dignity of gods and heroes ; and, because, accord- ing to his opinion, they must be false. Plato 2 argues in a similar spirit when he examines the different tradi- tions about Eros ; and in the " Symposium " we see how each speaker maintains that myth of Eros to be the only true one which agrees best with his own ideas of the nature of this god, Phaedros 8 calling him the oldest, Agathon the youngest of the gods; yet each appealing to the authority of an ancient myth. Thus, men who had as clear a conception of the omnipotence and omnipresence of a supreme God as natural relig- ion can reveal, still called him Zeus, forgetting the adulterer and parricide : Zeus a-px*]> Zeus /xeVcra, Atos 8* K Travra. "Zeus is the beginning, Zeus the middle; out of Zeus all things have been made; " an Orphic line, but an old one, if, as Mr. Grote sup- poses, Plato alluded to it. 4 Poets, again, who felt in 1 Seo 0. Miiller's excellent work, Prolegomena zii einer wissemdiaftlichen Mytlwkgie, 1825, p. 87. 2 Phasdros, 242 E. * Rytltp. 178 C. Ovrtat iro^a\68fv b/ioXoyemu o *Epu>? ei> TOI? irpeaftvrdr it ttici" 7rpco/?vTaro$ e Siv ntyurriav dyaBuiv r))j.lv curios earif 195 A < 4>aipe. 4 Lobeck, Aylaoph. p. 523, gives Zei>$ xe ,'iaXi), /tus fiecrira, Aib? ' e/e TTO.VTO. rrr See Preller's Grtek Mythology, 1854, p 99. COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 15 their hearts the true, emotion of prayer, a yearning after divine help and protection, still spoke of Zeus, forgetting that at one time Zeus himself was vanquished by Titan, and had to be delivered by Hermes. 1 JEs- chylos 2 says : " Zeus, whoever he is, if this be the name by which he loves to be called, by this name I ad- dress him. For, pondering on all things except Zeus, I cannot tell whether I may truly cast off the idle bur- den from my thought." No, the preservation of these mythic names, the long life of these fables, and their satisfying the religious, poetical, and moral wants of succeeding generations, though strange antl startling, is not the real difficulty. The past has its charms, and tradition has a powerful friend in language. We still speak of the sun rising and setting, of rainbows, of thunderbolts, because lan- guage has sanctioned these expressions. We use them, though we do not believe in them. The difficulty is how at first the human mind was led to such imagin- ings, how the names and tales arose, and unless this question can be answered, our belief in a regular and consistent progress of the human intellect, through all ages and in alJ countries, must be given up as a false theory. Nor can it be said that we know absolutely noth- ing of this period during which the as yet undivided 1 Apotttxl. 1, 6, 3, Grote, II. G. p. 4. 2 I give the text, because it lias been translated in so many different w*ys : Zev?, OOTIT JTOT' corti', el ro6' ou- OUK ex< 7rpocretxa They are: sono, 6 lint, can (sun), son. Bay, sont. It is clear, even from a short consideration of these forms, first, that all are but varieties of one common type ; secondly, that it is impossible to consider any one of these six paradigms as the original from which the others had been borrowed. To this we may add, thirdly, that in none of the languages to which these verbal forms belong, do we find the elements of which they could have been composed. If we find such forms as fai dime, we can explain them by a mere ref- erence to the grammatical materials which French has still at its command, and the same may be said even of compounds like f aimerai, i. e. je-aimer-ai, I have to love, I shall love. But a change from ye suis to tu es is inexplicable by the light of French grammar. These forms could not have grown, so to speak, on French soil, but must have been handed down as relics from a former peiiod, must have existed in some language antecedent to any of the Romance dialects. Now, for- tunately, in this case, we are not left to a mere infer- ence, but as we possess the Latin verb, we can prove vov n. 2 10 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. how by phonetic corruption, and by mistaken analo- gies, every one of the six paradigms is but a national metamorphosis of the Latin original. Let us now look at another set of paradigms : Sanskrit. Lithuanian. Zend. Doric. Old Slav. Latin. Gothic. Armen. 1 am: UMIli, CMIli, all mi, EMM', yesiiie. sum. ba em. Tiouart: asi, c."i. alii, iartri, J'ei, cs. is, ea lie is; asti. esti. n.jp), frater, brfithar, brat', brathalr. Sister: svasar, qnnhar, . . eoror, Bvistur, sestra, siur. Daughter: duhitir, dughdhur, fltrya-njp, dauhtar, (Uth.) dukte, dear. The mere fact, that the names for father, mother, brother, sister, and daughter are the same in most of the Aryan languages, might at first sight seem of immate- rial significance ; yet, even these words are full of im- port. That the name of father was coined at that early period, shows that the father acknowledged the offspring of his wife as his own, for thus only had he a rio-ht to claim the title of father. " Father " is derived O from a root PA, which means not to beget, but to pro- tect, to support, to nourish. The father as progenitor, was called in Sanskrit, "^anitar," but as protector and supporter of his offspring he was called " pitar." Hence, in the Veda these two names are used together, in order to express the full idea of father. Thus the poet says (I. 164, 33) : - " Dyails me p'tft r/anit&." " Jo(vi)s mei pater genitor." 22 COMPORATIVh MYTHOLOGY. In a similar manner, " matai'," mother, is johicd with " <7anitri," yenitrix (Rv. III. 48, 2), which shows that the word " matar " must soon have lost its etymo- logical meaning, and have become an expression of re- spect and endearment. Among the earliest Aryans, " matar " had the meaning of maker, from MA, to fashion ; and, in this sense, and with the same accent as the Greek ^n/p, ma'tar, not yet determined by a feminine affix, it is used in the Veda as a masculine. Thus we read, for instance, Rv. VIII. 41, 4 : " So/t mata pflrvyam padam." " He, Varuna (Uranos), is the maker of the old place." Now, it should be observed, that " matar," as well as " pitar," is but one out of many names by which the idea of father and mother might have been expressed. Even if we confined ourselves to the root PA, and took the granting of support to his offspring as the most characteristic attribute of father, many words might have been, and actually were formed, all equally fit to become, so to say, the proper names of father. In Sanskrit, protector can be expressed not only by PA, followed by the derivative suffix " tar," but by " pa-la," " pa-laka," " pa-yu," all meaning protector. The fact, that out of many possible forms, one only has been ad- mitted into all the Aryan dictionaries, shows that there .nust have been something like a traditional usage in language long before the separation of the Aryan fam- ily took place. Besides, there were other roots from which the name of father might have been formed, such as GAN, from which we have "^anitar," genitor, yeverrjp ', or TAK, from which the Greek roKevs ; as PAR, from which the Latin par ens ; not to mention many other names equally applicable to express some promi* COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 23 nent attribute of a father in his relation to his children. If each Aryan dialect had formed its own name for father, from one of the many roots which all the Aryan dialects share in common, we should be able to say that there was a radical community between all these lan- guages ; but we should never succeed in proving, what is most essential, their historical community, or their divergence from one language which had already ac- quired a decided idiomatical consistency. It happens, however, even with these, the most es- sential terms of an incipient civilization, that one or the other of the Aryan dialects has lost the ancient expression, and replaced it by a new one. The com- mon Aryan names for brother and sister, for instance, do not occur in Greek, where brother and sister are called dSeA(/>os and aSX^. To conclude from this that at the time when the Greeks started from their Aryan home, the names of brother and sister had not yet been framed, would be a mistake. We have no reason to suppose that the Greeks were the first to leave, and, if we find that nations like the Teutonic or Celtic, who could have had no contact with the natives of India after the first separation had taken place, share the name of brother in common with Sanskrit, it is as cer- tain that this name existed in the primitive Aryan lan- guage, as the occurrence of the same word in Walla- chian and Portuguese would prove its Latin origin, though no trace of it existed in any other of the other Romance dialects. No doubt, the growth of language is governed by immutable laws, but the influence of accident is more considerable here than in any other branch of natural science ; and though in this case it * O is possible to find a principle which determines the ac- 24 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. cidental loss 1 of the ancient names for brother and sis- ter in Greek, yet this is r/ot the case always, and we shall frequently find that one or the other Aryan dialect does not exhibit a term which yet, on the strength of our general argument, wo shall feel justified in ascrib- ing to the most ancient period of Aryan speech. The mutual relation between brother and sister had been hallowed at that early period, and it had been sanctioned by names which had become traditional be- fore the Aryan family broke up into different colonies. The original meaning of " bhratar " seems to me to have been he who carries or assists ; of " savasar," she who pleases or consoles, " svasti " meaning in San- skrit joy or happiness. In "duhitar," again, we find a name which must have become traditional long before the separation took place. It is a name identically the same in all the dia- lects, except Latin, and yet Sanskrit alone could ha\ r e preserved a consciousness of its appellative power. " Duhitar," as Professor Lassen was the first to show, is derived from Dun, a root which in Sanskrit means to milk. It is perhaps connected with the Latin duco, and the transition of meaning would be the same as between "trahere," to draw, and " traire," to milk. Now, the name of milkmaid, given to the daughter of the house, opens before our eyes a little idyl of the poetical and pastoral life of the early Aryans. One of the few things by which the daughter, before she was niarriid, might make herself useful in a nomadic house- hold, was the milking of the cattle, and it discloses a kind of delicacy and humor, even in the rudest state of society, if we imagine a father calling his daughter l See Edinburgh Review, Oct. 1851, p. 320. COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 25 his little milkmaid, rather than " suta," his begotten, or " filia," the suckling. This meaning, however, must have been forgotten long before the Aryans separated. " Dnhitar " was then no longer a nickname, but it had become a technical term, or, so to say, the proper name of daughter. That many words were formed in the same spirit, and that they were applicable only during a nomadic state of life, we shall have fre- quent opportunity of seeing, as we go on. But as the transition of words of such special meaning into gen- eral terms, deprived of all etymological vitality, may seem strange, we may as well give at once a few anal- ogous cases where, behind expressions of the most general currency, we can discover, by means of ety- mology, this peculiar background of the ancient nomad life of the Aryan nations. The very word " peculiar " may serve as an illustration, taken from more modern times. Peculiar, now means singular, extraordinary, but originally it meant what was private, i. e. not com- mon property; being derived from peeuhum. Now, the Latin pecul.ium stands for pecudium (like consillum for considium) ; and being derived from pecus, peeudis, it expressed originally what we should call cattle and chattel. Cattle constituting the chief personal property of agricultural people, we may well understand how peculiar, meaning originally what refers to one's own property, came to mean not-common, and at last, in our modern conversation, passed into the meaning of strange. I need hardly mention the well-known ety- mology of pecunia, which being derived from the same word, pea, and therefore signifying " flocks," took gradually the meaning of "money," in the same man- ner as the Anglo-Saxon " feoh," the German " Vieh," cattle (and originally according to Grimm's law, the 26 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. same word as pecu), received in the course of time the sense of a pecuniary remuneration, a fee. What takes place in modern languages, and, as it were, under oui own eyes, must not surprise us in more distant ages. Now, the most useful cattle have always been the ox and the cow, and they seem to have constituted the chief riches and the most important means of subsis- tence among the Aryan nations. Ox and cow are called in Sanskrit "go," plur. "gavas," which is the same word as the Old High-German "chuo," plur. " chuowi," and with a change from the guttural to the labial media, the classical (3cv, the meaning of tending cows has been absorbed by the more general one of tending cattle, nay, it is used in a metaphorical sense, such as cA.7ri'o-i povKoXovp-ai, I feed myself on vain hopes. It is used with regard to horses, and thus we find for horse- herd, i;r7ro/3ouKoAos, originally a cowherd of horses, an expression which we can only compare to Sanskrit " g ovu a >" meaning a yoke of oxen, but afterwards any pair, so that a pair of oxen would be called " go- go-yuga." Thus, in Sanskrit, " go-pa " means originally a cowherd, but it soon loses this specific meaning, and is used for the head of a cow-pen, a herdsman, and at last, like the Greek TTOI//.T/I' Aawi/, for a king. From " gopa " a new verb is formed, " gopayati," and in it all traces of its original meaning are obliterated ; it means simply to protect. As " gopa " meant a cow- herd, " go-tra," in Sanskrit, was originally a hurdle, COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 27 and meant the inclosure by which a herd was protected against thieves, and kept from straying. " Gotra," however, has almost entirely lost its etymological power in the later Sanskrit, where the feminine only, " gotraV' preserves the meaning of a herd of kine. In ancient times, when most wars were carried on, not to maintain the balance of power of Asia or Europe, but to take possession of good pasture, or to appropriate large herds of cattle, 1 the hurdles grew naturally into the walls of fortresses, the hedges became strongholds ; Anglo- Saxon " tun," a close (German " Zaun "), became a town ; and those who lived behind the same walls were called a " gotra," a family, a tribe, a race. In the Veda, "gotra" is still used in the sense of folds or Hurdles (III. 39, 4) : " Naki/i esham nindita martyeshu Y<* asmakam pitaraA goshu yodhaA Imlra/i eshiim dri/nhita mahinavan Ut gotratii sasri^e damsanavan." ** Thei*e is not among men one scoffing at them who o O were our fathers, who fought among the cows. Indra, the mighty, is their defender ; he, the powerful, spread out their hurdles, 2 (i. e. their possessions)." " Fighting among or for the cows," "goshu-yudh," is used in the Veda as a name for warrior, in general (I. 112, 22) ; and one of the most frequent words for battle is " gav-ishd," literally *' striving for cows." In the later Sanskrit, however, " gaveshana " m^ausr. dimply, research (physical or philosophical), " gavesh," 1 'Yitff poAii}? ij Xi naxiufQa. Toxar. 36. Grimm, History of the German fangvagt, p. 17. 2 Hurdle spms to be connected with the Vaidik " Wmrdis," house, '. e, inclosure, an llother-in law I vartt e/cvpo. socru* svuihro svekrvj W. chwegjl Son-in-law i 0ainatnr yo^/Spof gener . . . . Bret gevcr Daughter-in-law i enusha wos nurus $ :R'?' ? snocha Brother-in-law, dvar ,U*M\* \ A r * -}" \ Uter-in-law, (nanandar) J glo. .. * yali (wife's < .ister)' ) t). See Sir J. Lubbock, TrantacL of Ethnol. Society, vi. 337. 80 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. The above table shows that, before the separation of the Aryan race, every one of the degrees of affinity had received expression and sanction in language, for, al- though some spaces had to be left empty, the coinci- dences, such as they are, are sufficient to warrant one general conclusion. If we find in Sanskrit, the word 44 putra," son, and in Celtic, again, " paotr," son, root and suffix being the same, we must remember that, al though none of the other Aryan dialects has preserved this word in exactly the same form, yet the identity of the Celtic and Sanskrit term can only be explained on the supposition that " putra " was a common Aryan term, well known before any branch of this family was severed from the common stem. In modern languages we might, if dealing with similar cases, feel inclined to admit a later communica- tion, but fortunately, in ancient languages, no such in- tercourse was possible, after the southern brancli of the Aryan family had once crossed the Himalaya, and the northern branch set foot on the shores of Europe. Different questions are raised where, as is the case . with ^ainatar and ya///3po'?, originally bridegroom or husband, 1 then son-in-law, we are only able to prove that the same root was taken, and therefore the same radical idea expressed by Greek and Sanskrit, while the derivation is peculiar in each language. Here, no doubt, we must be more careful in our conclusions, but gcno.rally we shall find that these formal differences are only such as occur in dialects of the same language, when out of many possible forms, used at first promis- cuously, one was chosen by one poet, one by another, and then became popular and traditional. This at least KoAciToi 6 yq/xa; iurb ra>v OLKtiiav COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 31 is more likely than to suppose that to express a relation which might be expressed in such various ways, the Greek should have chosen the same root ya/j. to form ya/j.p6's and ya/jifipos, independently of the Hindu, who took that root for the same purpose, only giving it a causal form (as in " bhratar " instead of " bhartar)," and appending to it the usual suffix, " tar : " thus form* ing "^a'matar," instead of "^amara" or "yamara." The Lai in word gener is more difficult still, and if it is the same word as the Greek -ya^./?pos for ya^po?, the transition of m into n can only be explained by a proc- ess of assimilation and by a desire to give to the an- cient word gemer a more intelligible form. When, as it happens not unfrequently, one of the Aryan lan- guages has lost a common term, we are sometimes en- bled to prove its former existence by means of deriva- tives. In Greek, for instance, at least in the classical language, there is no trace of nepos, grandson, which we have in Sanskrit " napat," German " nefo " ; nor of neptis, Sanskrit " napti," German " nift." Yet there is in Greek d-vei//to's, a first cousin, i. e. one with whom we are grandsons together, as the uncle is called the little-grandfather, avunculus from avus. This word d-vei/aos is formed like Latin consobrinus, i. e. comorori- nus, one with whom we are sister-children, our mod- ern cousin, Italian cugino, in which there remains very little of the original word soror, from which, however, it is derived. Ai/ei/ao? therefore proves that in Greek, also, some word like re-revs must have existed in the sense of child or grandchild, and it is by a similar proc- ess that we can prove the former presence in Greek, of a term corresponding to Sanskrit " syala," a wife's brother. In Sanskrit a husband calls his wife's brother 82 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. " syala," his wife's sister " syiili." Therefore, in Greek, Peleus would call Amphitrite, and Poseidon Thetis, their " syalis ": having married sisters, they would have " syalis " in common, they would be what the Greeks call cU'Aioi, for " sy " between two vowels is generally dropt in Greek ; and the only anomaly consists in the short e representing the long a in Sanskrit. There are still a few words which throw a dim light on the early organization of the Aryan family life. The position of the widow was acknowledged in lan- guage and in law, and we find no trace that, at that early period, she who had lost her husband was doomed to die with him. If this custom had existed, the want of having a name for widow Avould hardly have been felt, or, if it had been, the word would most likely have had some reference to this awful rite. Now, hus- band, or man, in Sanskrit is " dhava,'' a word which does not seem to exist in the other Aryan languages, for dea, which Pictet brings forward as Celtic, in the sense of a man or person, is a word that has never been authenti- cated. From " dhava," Sanskrit forms the name of the widow by the addition of the preposition " vi," which means without; therefore "vi dhava," husbandless, wid- ow. This compound has been preserved in languages which have lost the simple word "dhava," thus showing the great antiquity of this traditional term. We have it not only in Celtic " feadbh," but in Gothic " viduvo," Slavonic " vdova," Old Prussian "widdewu," and Latin vidua. If the custom of widow-burning had ex- isted at that early period, there would have been no " vidhavas," no husbandless women, because they would all have followed their husband into death. Therefore COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 83 the very name indicates, what we are farther enabled to prove by historical evidence, the late origin of widow- burning in India. It is true, that when the English Government prohibited this melancholy custom, as the Emperor Jehangir had done before, and when the whole of India was said to be on the verge of a religious rev- olution, the Brahmans were able to appeal to the Veda as the authority for this sacred rite, and as they had the promise that their religious practices should not be interfered with, they claimed respect for the Suttee. Raghunandana and other doctors had actually quoted chapter and verse from the Rig-veda, and Colebrooke, 1 l "On the Duties of a Faithful Widow," Asiatic Researches, vol. iv. pp. 209, 219. Calcutta, 1795. The principal authorities of this Essay are to be seen in Colebrooke's Digest, book iv. cap. 3. sect. 1, which is a literal trans- lation of a section of G'agannatha's " Vivada-bhangarnava," to be found in MS. Wilson, 224, vol. iii. p. 62. See some interesting remarks on this sub- ject, and the correction of a mistake in my notes, in the third volume of the Journal of lite Royal Asiatic Society, Part. I., Art. VII., the source of Cole- brooke's Essay, On the Duties of a Fnitlful Hindu IVuhno, by Fitzedward Hall, F.sq.. M. A., D. C. L., Oxon. The reasons which I gave at a meeting of the Hoyal Asiatic Society for my opinion that Colebrooke availed him- self of the " Vivada-bhangarava," while writing his Essay on The Dutie$ of a Fuitltful Hindu Widow, were as follows: " On page 117, Colebrooke quotes: 1. A passage from Vishnu ; 2. A passage from Pratetas ; 3. A passage from the Smriti. The same passages, in exactly the same order, are quoted as Nos. 133, 134, 135 of the Digest. This argument has been, if not invalidated, at least modified, by the fact that the same passages occur likewise in the same order in Raghunindana's " Sud dhi tat tva," a work which was consulted by G'agannatha in the com. pilation of his Corpus Juris. My second reason was: " On page 119, Colebrooke quotes: 1. A saying ascribed to Narada (i. e. taken from the " Bnhan Naradfya Purawa" ); 2. A passage from Brihaspati. with which, at the end, aline of Raghunan- daua's commentary is mixed up. 3. A passage supported by the authority of Gotama (or Gautama). The same passages, in exactly the same order, form Nos. 127, 128, 129 of the " Vi- VOL. II. 3 84 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. the most accurate and learned Sanskrit scholar we have ever had, has translated this passage in accordance with their views : " Om ! let these women, not to be widowed, good wives adorned with collyriutn, holding clarified butter, consign themselves to the fire ! Immortal, not child- less, not husbandless, well adorned with gems, let them pass into the fire, whose original element is water." (From the Rig-veda.) Now this is perhaps the most flagrant instance of what can be done by an unscrupulous priesthood. Here have thousands and thousands of lives been sac- rificed, and a fanatical rebellion been threatened on the authority of a passage which was mangled, mistrans- lated, and misapplied. If anybody had been able at the time to verify this verse of the Rig-veda, the Brah- mans might have been beaten with their own weapons ; nay, their spiritual prestige might have been consider- ably shaken. The Rig-veda, which now hardly one Brahman out of a hundred is able to read, so far from enforcing the burning of widows, shows clearly that this custom was not sanctioned during the earliest pe- riod of Indian history. According to the hymns of the Rig-veda and the Vaidik ceremonial contained in the Grihya-sutras, the wife accompanies the corpse of her vadu-bhangarnava." The line from Raghunandana follows in the " Vivada- Viangarnava," as in Colebrooke's Essay, immediately after the extract from Srihaspati, and the mistake of mixing the words of Rnghunamlana with those of lirihaspati could only have arisen because, instead of mentioning Jia- ghunandana's name, the MS. of the '' Viv&da-bhangarwavR " reads: "iti Sinartu/j.'' Neither the "SmUlliitattva," nor any other work that 1 have met with, gives these three passages with the extract from Raghunandana in the same order as the " Vivada-bhangarnava " and Colebrooke's Essay. COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 85 husband to the funeral pile, but she is there addressed with a verse taken from the Rig-veda, and ordered to leave her husband, and to return to the world of the living. 1 " Rise, woman," it is said, " come to the world of life ; thou sleepest nigh unto him whose life is gone. Come to us. Thou hast thus fulfilled thy duties of a wife to the husband who once took thy hand, and made thee a mother." This verse is preceded by the very verse which the later Brah mans have falsified and quoted in support of their cruel tenet. The reading of the verse is beyond all doubt, for there is no various reading, in our sense of the word, in the whole of the Rig-veda. Besides, we have the commentaries and the ceremonials, and no- where is there any difference as to the text or its mean- ing. It is addressed to the other women who are pres- ent at the funeral, and who have to pour oil and butter on the pile : " May these women who are not widows, but have good husbands, draw near with oil and butter. Those who are mothers may go up first to the altar, without tears, without sorrow, but decked with fine jewels." Now the word, " the mothers may go first to the al- tar," are in Sanskrit, " A rohantu /><>seil \'(tiy Professor Wilson at the end of his article, and by myself in the Journnl f (lie (Itrmnn Oriental Sucitty, vol. ix. fasc. 4. Professor Wilson was the iirst to point out the falsification of the text, and the change of " yinim agre " into "yo 86 COMPAKATIVE MYTHOLOGY. a small change, but sufficient to consign many lives to the womb (yonim) of fire (agne/i). 1 The most important passage in Vedic literature to prove the decided disapproval of widow-burning on the part of the ancient Brahmans, at least as far as their own caste was concerned, occurs in the Brihad- devata. There we read : " Udirshva narity anaya mritam patny anurohati, Bhrata kaniyan pretasya nigaclya pratishedliati Kuryad etat karma hota. devaro na bhaved yadi, Pretanugamanaw na syad id brahmanasasanat. Varnanain itaresham ka. stridharmo 'yan bhaven na v&." " With the verse ' Rise, woman,' the wife ascends to follow her dead husband ; the younger brother of the departed, repeating the verse, prevents her. The Hotri priest performs that act, if there is no brother- in-law, but to follow the dead husband is forbidden, so says the law of the Brahmans. Wiih regard to the other castes this law for women may be or may not 1 In a similar manner the custom of widow-burning has been introduced by the Brahmans in an interpolated passage of the " Toy-Cart," an Indian drama of king Sudraka, which was translated by Professor Wilson, and has lately been performed at Paris. Le Chariot, d'Enfanl, Drame en vers en cinq actes et sept tableaux, traduction du Drame Indien du Eoi Soudraka, par MM. Me"ry et Gerard de Nerval. Paris, 1850. 2 Part of this passage is wanting in MSS. B. b, but it is found in A. C. See also M. M., " Die Todtenbestattung bei den Brahmanen," Zdtschrifl dtr Deutschen Moryenldndischen Gesettschafl, vol. ix. p. vi. where the ritual is somewhat different. I add a few extracts from Mr. H. J. Bushby's work on Widow-Burning, p. 21, " Long ago, oriental scholars, both native and European, had shown that the .<^ of widow-burning was not only unsanctionecl, but imperatively forbidden, by the earliest and most authoritative Hindoo scriptures. Nay, Colonel Tod, in his book on Rajpootana (Annals of Rnjas/ltan, 1829, vol. i. p. 635\ had actually indicated this anomaly in Hindoo doctrine as the best point of attack for abolitionists to select.'' P. 22, " Scholars, it is true, had proved Suttee to be an innovation and a heresy; but it was an innovation of 2,000 years standing, and a heresy abetted by the priesthood since th COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 37 After this digression, we return to the earlier period of history of which language alone can give us any information, and, as we have claimed for it the name ot widow, or the husbandless, we need not wonder that the name for husband, also, is to this day in most of the Aryan languages the same which had been fixed upon by the Aryans before their separation. It is " pad " in Sanskrit, meaning originally strong, like Latin potis or pot ens. In Lithuanian the form is exactly the same, " patis," and this, if we apply Grimm's law, be- comes " faths,"as in Gothic " bruth-faths," bridegroom. In Greek, again, we find TTOO-IS instead of Trons. Now, the feminine of " pati " in Sanskrit is " patni," and there is no doubt that the old Prussian "pattin,"in the accu- sative " wais-pattin," and the Greek Troma are mere transcripts of it, all meaning the mistress. What the husband was in his house, the lord, the strong protector, the king was among his people. Now, a common name for people was "vis" in San- skrit, from which the title of the third caste, the house- holders, or " Vaisyas " is derived. It comes from, the days of Alexander. Though unnoticed by Manu, the supplementary writ- ings with which the Hindoos, like the Jews, have overlaid their primitive books, are profuse in its praise." P. 29, " Major Ludlow determined, if possible, to induce two or three trustworthy and influential natives to un- dertake the cause; to ply them with the critical objection drawn from the older Scriptures." For further particulars as to the efforts made for the suppression of Suttee I may refer to the interesting narrative of Mr. H. J. Bushby, on " Wido\v-13urning," published originally in the Quarterly Ret-ieu), and afterwards as a separate pamphlet. (London: Longmans, 1355.) It shows how much has been done, and therefore, how much more tiny be done, by appealing to the most ancient and most sacred Sanskrit au- thorities in discussions with the natives of India. If the fact that Manu never sanctions the burning of widows could produce such an impression on the Vakeels o' IMjputana as described by Mr. Bushby, how much more pow- erful would be an appeal to the Veda, the authority of which, whenever a discrepancy occurs, invariably overrides that of Manu! 38 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. same ivot from which we have in Sanskrit " vesa," house, oT*os, vicus, Gothic " veihs," German " wich," and the modern English termination of many names of places. Hence " vispati " in Sanskrit meant king, i. e. lord of the people, and that this compound had become a title sanctioned by Aryan etiquette before the separa- tion, is confirmed in a strange manner by the Lithua- nian " wiesz-patis," a lord, " wiesz-patene," a lady, as compared with Sanskrit "vis-patis" and "vispatni." There was therefore, at that early period, not only a nicely organized family life, but the family began to be absorbed by the state, and here again conventional titles had been fixed, and were handed down perhaps two thousand years before the title of Caesar was heard of. Another name for people being " dasa " or " dasyu," "dasa-pati" no doubt was an ancient name for king. There is, however, this great difference between " vis " and "d&sa," that the former means people, the lat- ter subjects, conquered races, nay originally enemies. " Daayu " in the Veda is enemy, but in the Zend-Avesta, where we have the same word, it means provinces or gentes ; and Darius calls himself, in his mountain records, " king of Pcrsia and king of the provinces' (" kshayathiya Parsaiya, kshayathiya dahyunam "). Hence it is hardly doubtful that the Greek Setr-TroV^ represents a Sanskrit title " d&sa-pati," lord of nations; but \ve cannot admit that the title of Hospodar, which has la tely become so notorious, should, as Bopp says, be the sr oie as Sanskrit " vis-pati " or " dasa-pati." The word is " gaspadorus " in Lithuanian ; in Old Slav. " gos od," " gospodin," and " gospodar ; " Pol. " gos- podu; : ; " Boh. " hospodar." A Slavonic g, however, doe i not correspond to Sanskrit v or d y nor could COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 39 the t of "pad" become dJ Benfey, who derives " gospod,' from the Vaidik "/, the Gothic " quino," the Slavonic " zena," the English " queen." Queen, therefore, means originally mother, or lady ; and thus, again, we see how the language of family life grew gradually into the political language of the oldest Aryan state, and how the brotherhood of the family became the parpia of the state. 2 We have seen that the name of house was known before the Aryan family broke up towards the south and the north, and we might bring further evidence to tin;; effect by comparing Sanskrit " dama " with Greek SO/AOC, Lalin domus, Slav, "domii," Celtic "daimh," and Gothic "timrjan," to build, from which English " tim- 1 See Sehleicher's excellent remarks in his Formenlehre der Klrchen- tlawischtn S/n-ache, 1852, p. 107. 2 See Lectures on tie Science of Language, Second Series, p. 255, and particularly the German translation, where objections to this derivation Vave liven answered. 40 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. her," though we may doubt the identity of the Slavonic " grod " and " gorod," the Lithuanian " grod " with the Gothic "gards," Latin hort-us, Greek ^dpros, all mean- ing an inclosed ground. The most essential part of a house, particularly in ancient times, being a door well fastened and able to resist the attacks of enemies, we are glad to find the ancient name preserved in Sanskrit "dvar," " dvaras," Gothic "daur," Lithuanian " dur- rys," Celtic " dor," Greek 6vpa, Latin/ores. The builder also, or architect, has the same name in Sanskrit and Greek, " takshan " being the Greek re'/moi/. The Greek aoru, again, has been compared with Sanskrit " vastu," house; the Greek Kia^rj with Gothic " haims," a village ; the English " home." Still more conclusive as to the early existence of cities, is the Sanskrit " puri," town, preserved by the Greeks in their name for town, TTO'AIS ; and that high-roads also were not unknown, appears from Sanskrit " path," " pathi," " panthan," and " pathas," all names for " road," the Greek TTCITOS, the Gothic "fad," which Bopp believes to be identical with Latin pons, pontis, and Slavonic " ponti." It would take a volume were we to examine all the relics of language, though no doubt every new word would strengthen our argument, and add, as it were, a new stone from which this ancient and venerable ruin of the Aryan mind might be reconstructed. The evi- dence, however, which we have gone through must be sufficient to show that the race of men which could coin these words, words that have been carried down the stream of time, and washed up on the shores of so many nations, could not have been a race of savages, of mere nomads and hunters. Nay, it should be ob- served, that most of the terms connected with chase COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 41 and warfare differ in each of the Aryan dialects, while words connected with more peaceful occupations be- long generally to the common heir-loom of the Aryan language. The proper appreciation of this fact in its general bearing will show how a similar remark made bv Niebuhr with regard to Greek and Latin, requires a very different explanation from, that which that great scholar, from his more restricted point of view, was able to give it. It will show that all the Aryan na- tions had led a long life of peace before they separated, and that their language acquired individuality and na- tionality, as each colony started in search of new homes, new generations forming new terms con- nected with the warlike and adventurous life of their onward migrations. Hence it is that not only Greek and Latin, but all Aryan languages have their peaceful words in common ; and hence it is that they all differ so strangely in their warlike expressions. Thus the domestic animals are generally known by the same name in England and in India, while the wild beasts have different names, even in Greek and Latin. I can only give a list, which must tell its own story, for it would take too much time to enter into the etymolog- ical formation of all these words, though no doubt a proper understanding of their radical meaning would make them more instructive as living witnesses to the world of thought and the primitive household of the Aryan race : 42 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. Cattle : pasu patu ffwu? pecu io'l f l'u U rthu '' r !w"ku \ '' .. Ux and cow : (go dioin. i C gao /Sous bos U.ll.U. chuo Lett, gow govjado Ir. bo Ox: ulfs'lmu ukhslian vacca? G. utihsan W. ych Steer: Btliuru ttauru TOVpOS tauriis Btiur taura-s tour Ir. tor Heifer i ttari .. orcipa (stciilia) stuiro .. I Ir. cch Horse- au, atva aspa IJTirOS equus A.S. eoh aszua, fen i. f C|)0-0 Foali .. irwAo; pullus G. fula Dogi (van pa (cnraica) glW cani, G. hund >zu JR. sobaka { tiulf. kuce | Ir. cu Bbcep i avi .. ot? ovis ) G. avi-str 1 E. ewe avl-s Slav, ovj za Ir. oi Calf: vatsa .. iTaAot vitului Ir tithul Hc-goat i .. .. tan-pos caper O.lV.G. liafr .. Ir cubha She-goati apa pij ozi-s Ir ai^he Sow : eu (kara) .. BUS O.1KG. eu svinia Ir suig klog: .. irdpxof porous O.li.U. farah parsza-s Pol. prosie Ir pore Pig: ghiishvi .. XoJpos .. JO.N.grin j Scotch, gris \ - .. Donkey t .. .. 0?0f asinus ilsilll asila-s osilu , W. asvn ! Ir. asail Mouse : ninsh .. wi)s in us 0. II. G. in Qs M Pol. mysz .. Fly : makhhika muklishi /xuia in usca O.ll.G. micco muse K. mucha Goose : ha/,a " X 1 ?" anser U.ll.G. kans zasi-s Boh. hus, G- goer* Of wild animals some were known to the Aryans before they separated, and they happen to be animals wl.ich live both in Asia and Europe, the bear and the Sanskrit Greek. Italian. Teutonic. Slavonic. Celtic. Bean riksha opKros ursiis .. Lith. loky- Ir. art Wolf: vrika AUKOS {{"jirpus \ - vulf Ltth. wilka-s Ir. brech To them should be added the serpent : Sanskrit. Greek. Italian. Teutonic. Slavonic. Celtic. tahi iex l ^rpent: < VryvfAw) <(ni"!-'iiilla) S .. Vangury-t) > fsaqia (iprrerov Cerps > .. > .. )W. t&rff Without dwelling on the various names of those ani- mals which had partly been tamed and domesticated, while others were then, as they are now, the natural enemies of the shepherd and his flocks, we proceed at once to mention a few words which indicate that this early pastoral life was not without some of the most primitive arts, such as ploughing, grinding, weaving, and the working of useful and precious metals. The oldest term for ploughing is AR, which we find COMPAKATIVK MYTHOLOGY. 43 in Latin arare, Greek, dpow, to ear, Old Slav. " oi-ati," Gothic "arjan," Lithuanian " arti," and Gaelic "ar." From this verb we have the common name of the plough, aporpov, aratrum, Old Saxon " erida," Old Norse " ardhr," Old Slavonic " oralo " and " oradlo," Lithuanian " arkla-s," Welsh " aradyr " and " arad," Cornish " aradar." ''Apoupa and arvum come probably from the same root. But a more general name for field is Sanskrit " pada," Greek Tre'Sov, Umbrian " perum," Latin pedum in oppidum, Pol. " pole," Saxon " folda," O. H. G. " feld," "field;" or Sanskrit a#ra," dypcfe, ager* and Gothic " akr-s." l The corn which was grown in Asia could not well have been the same which the Aryan nations after- wards cultivated in more northern regions. Some of the names, however, have been preserved, and may be supposed to have had, if not exactly the same, at least a similar botanical character. Such are Sanskrit "yava," Zend "yava," Lithuanian "javai," which in Greek must be changed to 'a. Sanskrit " sveta " means white, and corresponds to Gothic " hveit," O. H. G. " huiz " and " wiz," the Anglo-Saxon " hvit." But the name of the color became also the name of the white grain, and thus we have Gothic " hvaitei," Lith. " kwetv-s," the English " wheat," with which some V scholars have compared the Slav. " shito," and the Greek o-iros. The name of corn signified originally what is crushed or ground. Thus " yfcurna " in San- skrit means ground, #irna," pounded, and from the same radical element we must no doubt derive the Russian " zerno," the Gothic " kaurn," the Latin granum. In Lithuanian, " girna " is a millstone, and 1 Lectures on the Science of Language, fifth edition, vol. i. p. 283. 44 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. the plural " girnSs " is the name of a hand-mill. The Russian word for millstone is, again, " zernov," and the Gothic name for mill, "qvairnus," the later " quirn." The English name for mill is likewise of considerable antiquity, for it exists not only in the O. H. G. " muli," but in the Lithuanian " maluna-s," the Bohemian " mlyn," the Welsh " melin," the Latin mold, and the Greek We might add the names for cooking and baking, and the early distinction between flesh and meat, to show that the same aversion which is expressed in later times, for instance, by the poets of the Veda, against tribes eating raw flesh, Avas felt already during this primitive period. " Kravya-ad" (Kpeas-e'Sw) and "ama- ad " (w/xo's-eSw) are names applied to barbarians, and used with the same horror in India as dyoi in Greece. But we can only now touch on these points, and must leave it to another opportunity to bring out in full relief this old picture of human life. As the name for clothes is the same among all the Aryan nations, being " vastra " in Sanskrit, " vasti '' in Gothic, vestis in Latin, eo-fl^s in Greek, " fassradh " in Irish, " gwisk " in Welsh, we are justified in ascrib- ing to the Aryan ancestors the art of weaving as well as of sewing. To weave in Sanskrit is " ve," and, in a causative form, " vap." With " ve " coincide the Latin vieo, and the Greek radical of F^-T/HOV ; ivith " vap," the O. H. G. " wab," the English " weave," the Greek u^-aivw. To sew in Sanskrit is " siv," from which " sutra," a thread. The same root is preserved in Latin suo, in Gothic " siuja," in O. H. G. " siwu," the English " to sew,'' Lithuanian " siuv-u," Greek Kaz-a-vu for Karoo va>. COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 45 Another Sanskrit root, with a very similar meaning, is NAH, which must have existed also as " nabh" and " nadh." From " null " we have Latin neo and necto, Greek veto, German " nahan " and u navan," to sew ; from " nadh," the Greek vr?#w; from " nabh," the San- skrit " nabhi " and " nabha " or " ur/mnabha," the spider, literally the wool-spinner. There is a fourth root which seems to have had orig- inally the special meaning of sewing or weaving, but which afterwards took in Sanskrit the more general sense of making. This is " ra&," which may corre- spond to the Greek pair, to stitch together or to weave ; nay, which might account for another name of the spider, apdxyi] in Greek, and aranea in Latin, and for the classical name of woven wool, Xa^vos or Aa;^, and the Latin lana. That the value and usefulness of some of the metals was known before the separation of the Aryan race, can be proved only by a few words ; for the names of most of the metals differ in different countries. Yet there can be no doubt that iron was known, and its value appreciated, whether for defense or for attack. Whatever its old Aryan name may have been, it is clear that Sanskrit " ayas," Latin ahes in aheneus, and even the contracted form, ces, ceris, the Gothic " ais," the Old High-German " er," and the English " iron," are names cast in the same mould, and only slightly corroded even now by the rust of so many centuries. The names of the precious metals, such as gold and silver, have suffered more in passing through the hands of so many generations. But, notwithstanding, we are able to discover even in the Celtic " airgiod " the traces of the Sanskrit " ra^ata," the Greek apyvpos, the 46 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. Latin argentum; and even in the Gothic " gulth," gold, a similarity with the Slavonic " zlato " and Rus- sian " zoloto," Greek xp^Vos and Sanskrit " hiranyam," although their formative elements differ widely. The radical seems to have been " har-at," from whence the Sanskrit " harit," the color of the sun and of the dawn, as aurum also descends from the same root with aurora. Some of the iron implements used, whether for peace- ful or warlike purposes, have kept their original name, and it is extremely curious to find the exact similarity of the Sanskrit " parasu " and the Greek Tre/XeKvs, axe, or of Sanskrit " asi," sword, and Latin ensis. New ideas do not gain ground at once, and there is a tendency in our mind to resist new convictions as long as we can. Hence it is only by a gradual and careful accumulation of facts that we can hope, on this linguis- tic evidence, to establish the reality of a period in the history of mankind previous to the beginning of the most ancient known dialects of the Aryan world; previous to the origin of Sanskrit as well as Greek ; previous to the time when the first Greek arrived on the shores of Asia Minor, and looking at the vast ex- panse of sky and sea and country to the west and north, called it " Europa." Let us examine one other wit- ness, whose negative evidence will be important. Dur- ing this early period, the ancestors of the Aryan race must have occupied a more central position in Asia, whence the southern branches extended towards India, the northern to Asia Minor, and Europe. It would fol- lov, therefore, that before their separation, they could not have known the existence of the sea, and hence, if our theory be true, the name for sea must be of later growth, and different in the Aryan languages. And COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 47 this expectation is fully confirmed. We find, indeed, identical names in Greek and Latin, but not in the northern and southern branches of the Aryan family. And even these Greek and Latin names are evidently metaphorical expressions, names that existed in the ancient language, and were transferred, at a later time, to this new phenomenon. Pontus and TTOVTOS mean sea in the same sense as Homer speaks of vypa /ceAeutfo, for pontus comes from the same source from which we have pons, pontis, and the Sanskrit "pantha," if not " pathas." The sea was not called a barrier, but a high-road, more useful for trade and travel than any other road, and Professor Curtius 1 has well pointed out Greek expressions, such as U-OVTOS oAos iroAtrjs and OdXaa-aa TroVrou, as indicating, even among the Greeks, a consciousness of the original import of TTOI/TOS. Nor can words like Sanskrit " sara," Latin saZ, and Greek aAs, aAo's, be quoted as proving an acquaintance with the sea among the early Aryans. " Sara " in Sanskrit means, first, water, afterwards, salt made of water, but not necessarily of sea-water. We might conclude from Sanskrit " sara," Greek oAs, and Latin sal, that the preparation of salt by evaporation was known to the an- cestors of the Aryan family before they separated. But this is all that could be proved by oAs, sal, and Sanskrit " sara " or " salila ; " the exclusive application of these words to the sea belongs to later times ; and though the Greek eVaAtos means exclusively marine, the Latin in tula is by no means restricted to an island surrounded by salt water. The same remark applies to words like cequor in Latin or WAayos in Greek. aAaoro-a has long 1 See Kuhn's Journal of Comparative Philology, i. 34. Professoi Co/tins gives the equation : IJWTO: 7raTos=ireV0o : jra9o=/?ev9os : /Jaflor. 48 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. been proved to be a dialectical form of Gdpao-o-a or pao-o-a, expressing the troubled waves of the sea (-a 8 TTOVTOV Iloo-etSoov), and if the Latin mare be the same as Sanskrit " vari," " vari " in Sanskrit does not mean "sea," but water in general, and could, therefore, only confirm the fact that all the Aryan nations applied terms of a general meaning when they had each to fix their names for the sea. Mare is more likely a name for dead or stagnant water, like Sanskrit " maru," the desert, derived from " mri," to die ; and though it is identical with Gothic " marei," Slav, "more," Irish " muir," the application of all these words to the ocean is of later date. But, although the sea had not yet been reached by the Aryan nations before their com- mon language branched off into various dialects, navi- gation was well known to them. The words "oar" and " rudder " can be traced back to Sanskrit, and the name of the ship is identically the same in Sanskrit ("naus," " navas "), in Latin (wawzs), in Greek(vavs), and in Teutonic (Old High-German "nacho," Anglo- Saxon "naca"). It is hardly possible to look at the evidence hitherto collected, and which, if space allowed, might have been considerably increased, 1 without feeling that these 1 A large collection of common Aryan words is found in Grimm's Hit" lory of the German Lrmcjiuxje. The first attempt to use them for histor- ical purposes was made by Kichhof; but the most useful contributions have sirce leen made by Winning in his Manual of Comparative Philuliifly, 1838; bv Ruhn, Curtins, and Fiirstemann; and much new material is to be found in Hoop's Gluasarium and 1'ott's Ktymoluginche Forsrhwngen. Pictet's great work, Les Oriyines Jn(to-Eurcennes, 2 vols. 1859 and 1863, brings to- gether the most complete mass of materials, but requires also the most care- ful sifting. With regard to Sanskrit words in particular, the greatest caution is required, as M. Pictet lias not paid to it the same attention au to Celtic, Latin, Greek, and Slavonic. COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 49 words are the fragments of a real language, once spoken by a united race at a time which the historian has till lately hardly ventured to realize. Yet here we have in our own hands, the relics of that distant time ; we are using; the same words which were used C5 by the fathers of the Aryan race, changed only by phonetic influences ; nay, we are as near to them in thought and speech as the French and Italians are to the ancient people of Rome. If any more proof was wanted as to the reality of that period which must have preceded the dispersion of the Aryan race, we might appeal to the Aryan numerals, as irrefragable evidence of that long-continued intellectual life which characterizes that period. Here is a decimal system of numeration, in itself one of the most marvelous achievements of the human mind, based on an abstract conception of quantity, regulated by a spirit of philo- sophical classification, and yet conceived, matured, and finished before the soil of Europe was trodden by Greek, Roman, Slave, or Teuton. Such a system could only have been formed by a very small com- munity, and more than any part of language it seems to necessitate the admission of what might almost be called a conventional agreement among those who first framed and adopted the Aryan names for one to hundred. Let us imagine, as well as we can, that at the present moment we were suddenly called upon to invent new names for one, two, three, and we may then begin to feel what kind of task it was to form and fix such words. We could easily supply new expressions for material objects, because they always have some attributes which language can render either metaphor- ically or periphrastically. We could call the sea " the 60 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. salt- water;" the rain, "the water of heaven ;" the rivers, " the daughters of the earth." Numbers, how- ever, are, by their very nature, such abstract and empty conceptions, that it tries our ingenuity to the utmost to find any attributive element in them to which expression might be given, and which might in time become the proper name of a merely quantita- tive idea. There might be less difficulty for one and two; and hence, these two numerals have received more than one name in the Aryan family. But this again would only create a new difficulty, because, if different people were allowed to use different names for the same numeral, the very object of these names would be defeated. If five could be expressed by a term meaning the open hand, and might also be ren- dered by the simple plural of the word for fingers, these two synonymous terms would be useless for the purpose of any exchange of thought. Again, if a word meaning fingers or toes might have been used to express five as well as ten, all commerce between indi- viduals using the same word in different senses, would have been rendered impossible. Hence, in order to form and fix a series of words expressing one, two, three, four, etc., it was necessary that the ancestors of the Aryan race should have come to some kind of un- conscious agreement to use but one term for each num- ber, and to attach but one meaning to each term. This was not the case with regard to other words, as may be seen by the large proportion of synonymous and poly- onymous terms by which every ancient language is characterized. The wear and tear of language in literary and practical usage is the only means for re- ducing the exuberance of this early growth, and for COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 51 giving to each object but one name, and to each name but one power. And all this must have been achieved with regard to the Aryan numerals before Greek wag Greek, for thus only can we account for the coinci- dences as exhibited in the subjoined table : Sanskrit. Greek. Latin. Lithuanian. Gothic. I. ekas, , brother-in-law, know that this term applied originally only to the younger brothers of the husband, who stayed at home with the bride while their elder brother was out in the field or the forests. The Sanskrit " devar " meant originally playmate, it told its own story, it was a myth ; but in Greek it has dwindled down into a mere name, or a technical term. Yet, even in Greek it is not allowed to form a feminine of Sa?jp, as little as we should venture even now to form a masculine of " daughter." Soon, however, languages lose their etymological COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 53 conscience, and thus we find in Latin, for instance, not only vidua, husbandless ( " Penelope tarn diu vidua viro suo caruit "), but viduus, a formation which, if analyzed etymologically, is as absurd as the Teutonic *' a widower." It must be confessed, however, that the old Latin viduus, 1 a name of Orcus, who had temple outside Rome, makes it doubtful whether the Latin vidua is really the Sanskrit " vi-dhava," however great their similarity. At all events we should have to admit that a verb viduare was derived from vidua, and that afterwards a new adjective was formed with a more general sense, so that viduus to a Roman ear meant nothing more than privatus. But, it may be asked, how does the fact, that the Aryan languages possess this treasure of ancient names in common, or even the discovery that all these names had originally an expressive and poetical power, ex- plain the phenomenon of mythological language among all the members of this family ? How does it render intelligible that phase of the human mind which gave birth to the extraordinary stories of gods and heroes, of gorgons and chimeras, of things that no human eye had ever seen, and that no human mind in a healthy state could ever have conceived ? Before we can answer this question, we must enter into some more preliminary observations as to the formation of words. Tedious as this may seem, we believe that while engaged in these considerations the mist of mythology will gradually clear away, and en- able us to discover behind the floating clouds of the dawn of thought and language, that real nature which mythology has so long veiled and disguised. 1 Hartung, Die Religion der Romer, vol. ii. p. 90. 64 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. All the common Aryan words which we have hith- erto examined referred to definite objects. They are all substantives, they express something substantial, something open to sensuous perception. Nor is it in the power of language to express originally anything except objects as nouns, and qualities as verbs. Hence, the only definition we can give of language during that early state is, that it is the conscious expression in sound, of impressions received by all the senses. To us, abstract nouns are so familiar that we can hardly appreciate the difficulty which men experienced in forming them. We can scarcely imagine a language without abstract nouns. There are, however, dialects spoken at the present day which have no abstract nouns, and the more we go back in the history of lan- guages, the smaller we find the number of these use- ful expressions. As far as language is concerned, an abstract word is nothing but an adjective raised into a substantive ; but in thought the conception of a quality as a subject, is a matter of extreme difficulty, and, in strict logical parlance, impossible. If we say, " I love virtue," we seldom connect any definite notion with " virtue." Virtue is not a being, however unsubstan- tial ; it is nothing individual, personal, active ; nothing that could by itself produce an expressible impression on our mind. The word " virtue " is only a short-hand expression ; and when men said for the first time " I love virtue," what they meant by it originally was, " I iove all things that become an honest man, that are manly, or virtuous." But there are other words, which we hardly call abstract, but which, nevertheless, were so originally and are so still, in form; I mean in words like "day* COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 55 and " night," " spring " and " winter," " dawn " and " twilight," " storm " and "thunder." For what do we mean r. we speak of day and night, or of spring and winter ? We may answer, a season, or any other portion of time. But what is time, in our conceptions ? It is nothing substantial, nothing individual ; it is a quality raised by language into a substance. There- fore if we say " the day dawns," " the night ap- proaches," we predicate actions of things that cannot act, we affirm a proposition which, if analyzed logically, would have 110 definable subject. The same applies to collective words, such as " sky " and " earth," " dew " and " rain," even to "rivers v and " mountains." For if we say, " The earth nourishes man," we do not mean any tangible portion of soil, but the earth, conceived as a whole ; nor do we mean by the sky the small horizon which our eye can scan. We imagine something which does not fall under our senses, but whether we call it a whole, a power, or an idea, in speaking of it we change it unawares into something individual. Now in ancient languages every one of these words had necessarily a termination expressive of gender, and this naturally produced in the mind the corresponding idea of sex, so that these names received not only an individual, but a sexual character. There was no sub- stantive which was not either masculine or feminine ; neuters being of later growth, and distinguishable chiefly in the nominative. 1 1 " It is with the world, as with each of us in our individual life: for as \te leave childhood and youth behind us, we bid adieu to the vivid impres- sions things once made upon us, and become colder and more speculative. To a little child, not only are all living creatures endowed with human in- telligence, but everything is alive. In his Kosmos, Pussy takes rank with 56 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. What must have been the result of this ? As long as people thought in language, it was simply impossible to speak of morning or evening, of spring and winter, without giving to these conceptions something of an in- dividual, active, sexual, and at last, personal character. They were either nothings, as they are nothings to our withered thought, or they were something; and then they could not be conceived as mere powers, but as beings powerful. Even in our time, though we have the conception of nature as a power, what do we mean by power, except something powerful ? Now, in early language, nature was Natura, a mere adjective made substantive ; she was the Mother always " going to bring; forth." Was this not a more definite idea than o that which we connect with nature ? And let us look to our poets, who still think and feel in language, that is, who use no word without having really en- livened it in their mind, who do not trifle with lan- guage, but use it as a spell to call forth real things, full of light and color. Can they speak of the sun, or the dawn, or the storms as neutral powers, without Pa and Ma, in point of intelligence. He beats the chair against which he has knocked his head; and afterwards kisses it in token of renewed friend- ship, in the full belief, that like himself, it is a moral agent amenable to re- wards and punishments. The fire that burns his finger is " Naughty Fire," and the stars that shine through his bedroom window are Eyes, like Mamma's, or Pussy's, only brighter. " The same instinct that prompts the child to personify everything remains unchecked in the savage, and grows up with him to manhood. Hence in all simple and early languages, there are but two genders, masculine and feminine. To develop such an idea as that of a muter, requires the slow growth of civilization for its accomplishment. We see the same tendency to class everything as masculine or feminine among even civilized men, i/ thev are uneducated. To a farm laborer, a bundle of hay is " he," just aa much as is the horse that eats it. He resolutely ignores " it," as a pronoun for which there is not the slightest necessity." Printer's Register, Feb. 6 1863. COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 57 doiiig violence to their feelings ? Let us open Words- worth, ana we shall hardly find him use a single ab- stract term without some life and blood in it : Religion, " Sacred Religion, mother of fonn and fear, Dread arbitress of mutable respect, New rites ordaining when the old are wrecked, Or cease to please the fickle worshipper." Winter, "Humanity, delighting to behold A fond reflection of her own decay, Hath painted Winter like a traveller old, Propped on a staff, and, through the sullen day, In hooded mantle, limping o'er the plain, As though his weakness were disturbed by painr Or, if a juster fancy should allow An undisputed symbol of command, The chosen sceptre is a withered bough. Infirmly grasped within a palsied hand. These emblems suit the helpless and forlorn; But mighty Winter the device shall scorn. For he it was dread Winter! who beset. Flinging round van and rear his ghastly net, That host, when from the regions of the Pole They shrunk, insane Ambition's barren goal, That host, as huge and strong as e'er delied Their God, and placed their trust in human pride! As fathers prosecute rebellious sons, He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth; He called on Frost's inexorable tooth Life to consume in manhood's firmest hold .... And bade the Snow their ample backs bestride,- And to the battle ride." So, again, of Age and the Hours: " Age I twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers, And call a train of laughing Hours, And bid them dance, and bid them sing; And thou, too, mingle in the ring! " Nc'w, when writing these lines, Wordsworth could hardly have thought of the classical Horce: the con- ception of dancing Hours came as natural to his mind is to the poets of old. 58 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. Or, again, of titorms and Seasons : " Ye Storms, resound the praises of your Ring! And ye mild Seasons, in a sunny clime, Midway, on some high hill, while father Time Looks on delighted, meet in festal ring, And loud and long of Winter's triumph sing! " We are wont to call this poetical diction, and to make allowance for what seems to us exaggerated lan- guage. But to the poet it is no exaggeration, nor was it to the ancient poets of language. Poetry is older than prose, and abstract speech more difficult than the outpouring of a poet's sympathy with nature. It re- quires reflection to divest nature of her living expres- sion, to see in the swift-riding clouds nothing but vaporous exhalations, in the frowning mountains masses of stone, and in the lightning electric sparks. Words- worth feels what he says, when he exclaims, "Mountains, and Vales, and Floods, I call on you To share the passion of a just disdain;" and when he speaks of "the last hill that parleys with the setting sun," this expression came to him as he was communing with nature ; it was a thought untranslated as yet into the prose of our traditional and emaciated speech ; it was a thought such as the men of old would not have been ashamed of in their common every day conversation. There are some poems of this modern ancient which are all mythology, and as we shall have to refer to them hereafter, I shall give one more extract, which to a Hindu and an ancient Greek would have been more intelligible than it is to us : " Hail, orient Conqueror of gloomy N ight ! Thou that canst shed the bliss of gratitude On hearts, howe'er insensible or rude ; Whether thy punctual visitations smite COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 59 The haughty towers where monarchs dwell, Or thou, impartial Sun, with presence bright Cheer'st the low threshold of the peasant's cell ! Not unrejoiced I see thee climb the sky, In naked splendor, clear from mist and haze, Or cloud approaching to divert the rays, Which even in deepest winter .testify Thy power and majesty, Dazzling the vision that presumes to gaze. Well does thine aspect usher in this Day; As aptly suits therewith that modest pace Submitted to the chains That bind thee to the path which God ordains That thou shouldst trace, Till, with the heavens and earth, thou pass away! Nor less, the stillness of these frosty plains Their utter stillness, and the silent grace Of yon ethereal summits, white with snow, (Whose tranquil pomp and spotless purity Report of storms gone by To us who tread below) Do with the service of this day accord. Divinest object which th' uplifted eye Of mortal man is suffered to behold; Thou, who upon these snow-clad Heights has poured Meek lustre, nor forget'st the humble Vale; Thou who dost warm Earth's universal mould, And for thy bounty wert not unadored By pious men of old ; Once more, heart-cheering Sun, I bid thee hail! Bright be thy course to-day, let not this promise fail! " Why then, if we ourselves, in speaking of the Sun or the Storms, of Sleep and Death, of Earth and Dawn, connect either no distinct idea at all with these names, or allow them to cast over our mind the fleeting shadows of the poetry of old ; why, if we, when speak- ing with the warmth which is natural to the human heart, call upon the Winds and the Sun, the Ocean and the Sky, as if they would still hear us ; why, if plastic thought cannot represent any one of these beings or powers, without giving them, if not a human form, at least human life and human feeling, 60 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. should we wonder at the ancients, with their language throbbing with life and reveling in color, if instead of the gray outlines of our modern thought, they threw out those living forms of nature, endowed with human powers, nay, with powers more than human, inasmuch as the light of the Sun was brighter than the light of a human eye, and the roaring of the Storms louder than the shouts of the human voice. We may be able to account for the origin of rain and dew, of storm and thunder ; yet, to the great majority of mankind, all these things, unless they are mere names, are still what they were to Homer, only perhaps less beautiful, less poetical, less real, and living. So much for that peculiar difficulty which the human mind experiences in speaking of collective or abstract ideas, a difficulty which, as we shall see, will explain many of the difficulties of Mythology. We have now to consider a similar feature of ancient languages, the auxiliary verbs. They hold the same position among verbs, as abstract nouns among sub- stantives. They are of later origin, and had all origi- nally a more material and expressive character. Our auxiliary verbs have had to pass through a long chain of vicissitudes before they arrived at the withered and lifeless form which fits them so well for the purposes of our abstract prose. Habere, which is now used in all the Romance languages simply to express a past tense, "j'ai aime"," I loved, was originally, to hold fast, to hold back, as we may see in its derivative, habence, the reins. Thus tenere, to hold, becomes, in Spanish, an auxiliary verb, that can be used very much in the same manner as habere. The Greek Ixw is the Sanskrit ' 4 sab," and meant originally, to be strong, to be able, COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 01 or to can. The Latin fui, I was, the Sanskrit " bhu," to be, corresponds to the Greek , and there shows still its original and material power of growing, in an intransitive and transitive sense. " As," the radical of the Sanskrit " as-mi," the Greek e^.-//t, the Lithuanian " as-rni," I am, had probably the original meaning of breathing, if the Sanskrit " as-u," breath, is correctly traced back to that root. Stare, to stand, sinks down in the Romance dialects to a mere auxiliary, as in " j'ai- e'te'," I have been, i. e. habeo-statum, I have stood ; "j'ai-e*t6 convaincu," I have stood convinced; the pho- netic change of statum into 6te being borne out by the transition of status into etat. The German " werden," which is used to form futures and passives, the Gothic " varth," points back to the Sanskrit " vnt," the Latin verto. " Will," again, in " he will go," has lost its radical meaning of wishing ; and " shall " used in the same tense, " I shall go," hardly betrays, even to the etymologist, its original power of legal or moral obliga- tion. " Schuld," however, in German means debt and sin, and " soil," has there not yet taken a merely tem- poral signification, the first trace of which may be dis- covered, however, in the names of the three Teutonic Parcae. These are called " Vurdh," " Verdhandi," and "Skuld," Past, Present, and Future. 1 But what could be the original conception of a verb which, even in its earliest application, has already the abstract meaning of moral duty or legal obligation ? Where could language, which can only draw upon the material world for its nominal and verbal treasures, find some- thing analogous to the abstract idea of he shall pay, or, he ought to yield? Grimm, who has endeavored to * Ruhn, Ztitschrift filr veryleichende Spracliforschung, vol. iii. p. 449 62 . COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. follow the German language into its most secret r. cesses, proposes an explanation of this verb, whicfi deserves serious consideration, however strange and incredible it may appear at first sight. Shall, and its preterite should, have the following forms in Gothic : Present. Preterite. Skal, Skulda. Skalt, Skuldes. Skal, Skulda. Skulum, Skuldedum. Skuluth, Skuldeduth. Skulun, Skuldedun. In Gothic this verb " skal," which seems to be present, can be proved to be an old perfect, analogous to Greek perfects like oT3a, which have the form of the perfect but the power of the present. There are sev- eral verbs of the same character in the German lan- guage, and in English they can be detected by the absence of the s, as the termination of the third person singular of the present. " Skal," then, according to Grimm, means, " I owe," " I am bound ; " but origi- nally it meant " I have killed." The chief guilt pun- ished by ancient Teutonic law, was the guilt of man- slaughter, and in many cases it could be atoned for by a fine. Hence, " skal " meant literally, " I am guilty," " ich bin schuklig ; " and afterwards, when this full expression had been ground down into a legal phrase, new expressions became possible, such as I have killed a free man, a serf, i. e. I am guilty of a free man, a serf; and at last, I owe (the fine for having slain) a free man, a serf. In this manner Grimm ac- COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 63 counts for the still later and more anomalous expres- sions, such as he shall pay, i. e. he is guilty to pay (" er ist schuldig zu zahlen ") ; he shall go, i. e. he must go ; and last, I shall withdraw, i. e. I feel bound to with- draw. A change of meaning like this seems, no doubt, violent and fanciful, but we should feel more inclined to accept it, if we considered how almost every word we use discloses similar changes as soon as we analyze it etymologically, and then follow gradually its historical growth. The general conception of thing is in Walla- chian expressed by " lucru, " the Latin lucrum, gain. The French " chose " was originally causa, or cause. If we say, " I am obliged to go," or "I am bound to pay," we forget that the origin of these expressions carries us back to times when men were bound to go, or bound over to pay. Hoc mefallit means, in Latin, " it deceives me," " it escapes me." Afterwards, it took the sense of " it is removed from me," I want it, I must have it : and hence, " il me faut," I must. Again, / may is the Gothic Mag, maht, mag, maguin, maguth, magun; and its primary signification was, " I am strong." Now, this verb also was originally a preterite, and derived from a root which meant, " to beget," whence the Gothic "magus," son, i. e. begotten, the Scotch " Mac," and Gothic " magath-s," daughter, the Eng- lish "maid." In mythological lano-ua^e we must make due allow- v ~ O ~ ance for the absence of merely auxiliary words. Even'' word, whether noun or verb, had still its full original power during the mythopoeic ages. Words were heavy and unwieldy. They said more than they 64 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. ought to say, and hence, much of the strangeness of the mythological language, which we can only un- derstand by watching the natural growth of speech. Where we speak of the sun following the dawn, the ancient poets could only speak and think of the Sun loving and embracing the Dawn. What is with us a sunset, was to them the Sun growing old, decay- ing, or dying. Our sunrise was to them the Night giving birth to a brilliant child ; and in the Spring they really saw the Sun or the Sky embracing the earth with a warm embrace, and showering treasures into the lap of nature. There are many myths in Hesiod, of late origin, where we have only to replace a full verb by an auxiliary, in order to change mythical into logical language. Hesiod calls Nyx (Night) the mother of Moros (Fate), and the dark Ker (Destruc- tion) ; of Thanatos (Death), Hypnos (Sleep), and the tribe of the Oneiroi (Dreams). And this her progeny she is said to have borne without a father. Again, she is called the mother of Momos (Blame), and of the woful Oizys (Woe), and of the Hesperides (Evening Stars), who guard the beautiful golden apples on the other side of the far-famed Okeanos, and the trees that bear fruit. She also bore Nemesis (Vengeance), and Apate (Fraud), and Philotes (Lust), and the perni- cious Geras (Old Age), and the strong-minded Erig (Strife). Now, let us use our modern expressions, such as " the stars are seen as the night approaches," "we sleep," "we dream," "we die," "we run danger during night," " nightly revels lead to strife, angry discussions, and woe," " many nights bring old age, and at last death," " an evil deed concealed at first by the darkness of night will at last be revealed by the MYTHOLOGY. t)5 day," " Night herself will be revenged on the criminal," and we have translated the language of Hesiod a language to a great extent understood by the people whom he addressed into our modern form of thought and speech. 1 All this is hardly mythological language, but rather a poetical and proverbial kind of expression known to all poets, whether modern or ancient, and fre- quently to be found in the language of common people. Uranos, in the language of Hesiod, is used as a name for the sky ; he is made or born that " he should be a firm place for the blessed gods." 2 It is said twice, that Uranos covers everything (v. 127), and that when he brings the night, he is stretched out every- where, embracing the earth. This sounds almost as if the Greek myth had still preserved a recollection of the etymological power of Uranos. For " Uranos " is the Sanskrit " Varuwa " and this is derived from a root VAR, to cover; "Varuwa" being in the Veda also a name of the firmament, but especially connected with the night, and opposed to " Mitra," the day. At all events, the name of " Uranos " retained with the Greek something of its original meaning, which was not the case with names like " Apollo " or " Diony- sos ; " and when we see him called dorepoeis, the starry 1 As to Philotes being the Child of Night, Juliet understood what it meant when she said : " Spread thy close curtain, love-performing Night! That unawares eyes may wink; and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalked of and unseen! Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties; or, if Love be blind, It best agrees with Night." Hesiod, Theog. 128: Tata e TOI irpuiroi' nev fyeiVaro Tcrov eaVTJj Qvpavbv oarepoevfl', tea fj.iv jrepl Tracra KaAvirroi* op' fir) jLiaKapetriri 0oi eSos VOL. II. 5 66 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. heaven, we can hardly believe, as Mr. Grote says, that to the Greek, " Uranos, Nyx, Hypnos, and Oneiroa (Heaven, Night, Sleep, and Dream) are persons, just as much as Zeus and Apollo." We need only read a few lines further in Hesiod, in order to see that the progeny of Gsea, of which Uranos is the first, has not yet altogether arrived at that mythological personifica- tion or crystallization which makes most of the Olym- pian gods so difficult and doubtful in their original char- acter. The poet has asked the Muses in the introduc- tion how the gods and the earth were first born, and the rivers and the endless sea, and the bright stars, and the wide heaven above (ovpavo9 evpvs i/n-ep^ev). The whole poem of the " Theogony " is an answer to this question ; and we can hardly doubt therefore that the Greek saw in some of the names that follow, simply poetical conceptions of real objects, such as the earth, and the rivers, and the mountains. Uranos, the first offspring of Gasa, is afterwards raised into a deity, endowed with human feelings and attributes ; but the very next offspring of Ga3a, Ovpea //afcpa, the great Mountains, are even in language represented as neuter, and can therefore hardly claim to be considered as per- sons like Zeus and Apollo. Mr. Grote goes too far in insisting on the purely lit- eral meaning of the whole of Greek mythology. Some mythological figures of speech remained in the Greek language to a very late period, and were perfectly understood, that is to say, they required as little ex- planation as our expressions of " the sun sets," or " the sun rises." Mr. Grote feels compelled to admit this, but he declines to draw any further conclusions from it. " Although some of the attributes and actions ascribed COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 67 to these persons," he says, " are often explicable by allegory, the whole series and system of them never are so : the theorist who adopts this course of explana- tion finds that, after one or two simple and obvious steps, the patli is no longer open, and he is forced to clear a way for himself by gratuitous refinements and conjectures." Here, then, Mr. Grote admits what lie calls allegory as an ingredient of mythology ; still he makes no further use of it and leaves the whole of mythology as a riddle, that cannot and ought not to be solved, as something irrational as a past that wa3 never present declining even to attempt a partial explanation of this important problem in the history of the Greek mind. IIAe'oi/ TJ/JLLO-V TTOVTOS. Such a want of scientific courage would have put a stop to many sys- tems which have since grown to completeness, but which at first had to make the most timid and uncer- tain steps. In palajontological sciences we must learn to be ignorant of certain things ; and what Suetonius says of the grammarian, "boni grammatici est non- nulla etiam nescire," applies with particular force to the mythologist. It is in vain to attempt to solve the secret of every name ; and nobody has expressed this with greater modesty than he who has laid the most lasting foundation of Comparative Mythology. Grimm, in the introduction to his " German Mythology," says, without disguise, " I shall indeed interpret all that I can, but I cannot interpret all that I should like." But surely Otfried Miiller had opened a path into the laby- rinth of Greek mythology, which a scholar of Mr. Grote's power and genius might have followed, and which at least he ought to have proved as either right r)r wrong. How late mythological language was in 68 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. voo-ue among the Greeks has been shown by O. Miiller o o (p. 65) in the myth of Kyrene. The Greek town of Kvrene in Libya was founded about Olymp. 37 ; the ruling race derived its origin from the Minyans, who reigned chiefly in lolkos, in Southern Thessaly ; the foundation of the colony was due to the oracle of Apollo at Pytho. Hence, the myth, "The heroic maid Kyrene, who lived in Thessaly, is loved by Apollo and carried off to Libya ; " while in modern language we should say, " The town of Kyrene, in Thessaly, sent a colony to Libya, under the auspices of Apollo." Many more instances might be given, where the mere substitution of a more matter-of-fact verb divests a myth at once of its miraculous appearance. 1 Kaunos is called the son of Miletos, i. e. Kretan colo- nists from Miletos had founded the town of Kaunos in Lycia. Again, the myth says that Kaunos fled from Miletos to Lycia, and his sister Byblos was changed, by sorrow over her lost brother, into a fountain. Here Miletos in Ionia, being better known than the Miletos in Kreta, has been brought in by mistake, Byblos being simply a small river near the Ionian Miletos. Again, Pausanias tells us as a matter of history, that Miletos, a beautiful boy, fled from Kreta to Ionia, in order to escape the jealousy of Minos, the fact being, that Miletos in Ionia was a colony of the Miletos of Kreta, and Minos the most famous king of that island. Again, Marpessa is called the daughter of Evenos, and a myth represents her as carried away by Idas, Idas being the name of a famous hero of the town of Marpessa. The fact, implied by the myth and confirmed by other evidence, is, that colonists started l Kanne's Mythology, 10, p. xxxii. COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 69 from the river Evenos, and founded Marpessa in Mes- sina. And here again, the myth adds, that Evenos, after trying in vain to reconquer his daughter from Idas, was changed by sorrow into a river, like Byblos, the sister of Miletos. If the Hellenes call themselves aurox^oves, we fancy we understand what is meant by this expression. But, if we are informed that Truppa, the red, was the oldest name of Thessaly, and that Hellen was the son of Pyrrha, Mr. Grote would say that we have here to deal with a myth, and that the Greeks, at least, never doubted that there really was one individual called Pyrrha, and another called Hellen. Now, this may be true with regard to the later Greeks, such as Homer and Hesiod; but was it so could it have been so originally? Language is always language, it always meant something originally, and he, whoever it was, who first, instead of calling the Hellenes born of the soil, spoke of Pyrrha, the mother of Hellen, must have meant something intelligible and rational ; he could not have meant a friend of his whom he knew by the name of Hellen, and an old lady called Pyrrha ; he meant what we mean if we speak of Italy as the mother of Art. Even in more modern times than those of which Ot- fried Muller speaks, we find that "to speak mytho- logically," was the fashion among poets and philoso- phers. Pausanias complains of those " who genealogize everything, and make Pythis the son of Delphos." The story of Eros in the " Phaedros " is called a myth (/iu5os, 254 D ; Aoyos, 257 B) ; yet Sokrates says iron- ically, " that is one of those which you may believe or lot " (TOUT-CIS 8^ e^eort /xi/ 7m'0cr0 had be- come the technical term for sunset. Avowal fjXwv, the setting of the sun, is opposed to di^aroAat, the rising. Now, Su'w meant originally, to dive into ; and expres- sions like ^eXtos S' ap' e'Sv, the sun dived, presuppose an earlier conception of ISv TroVrov, he dived into the sea. Thus Thetis addresses her companions (" II." xviii. 140) : ' Yjieis fjiev vvv Svre 0aAajj <'. 80 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. months. If li'Su/m had become the commonly re- ceived name for sunset, the myth of Endytnion could never have arisen. But the original meaning of Endy- mion being once forgotten, what was told originally of the setting sun was now told of a name, which, in order to have any meaning, had to be changed into a god or a hero. The setting sun once slept in the Lat- mian cave, the cave of night " Latmos " being derived from the same root as " Leto," " Latona," .the night ; but now he sleeps on Mount Latmos, in Karia. Endymion, sinking into eternal sleep after a life of but one day, was once the setting sun, the son of Zeus, the brilliant Sky, and of Kalyke, the cover- ing Night (from KuAvVra)) ; or, according to another saying, of Zeus and Protogeneia, the first-born god- dess, or the Dawn, who is always represented, either as the mother, the sister, or the forsaken wife of the Sun. Now he is the son of a king of Elis, probably for no other reason except that it was usual for kings to take names of good omen, connected with the sun, or the moon, or the stars, in which case a myth, connected with a solar name, would naturally be trans- ferred to its human namesake. In the ancient poetical and proverbial language of Elis, people said "Selene loves and watches Endymion," instead of " it is getting late ; " " Selene embraces Endymion," instead of " the sun is setting and the moon is rising ; " " Selene kisses Endymion into sleep," instead of " it is night." These expressions remained long after their meaning had ceased to be understood ; and as the human mind is generally as anxious for a reason as ready to invent one, a story arose by common consent, and without any personal effort, that Endymion must have been a young COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 81 lad loved by a young lady, Selene ; and, if children were anxious to know still more, there would always be a grandmother happy to tell them that this young Endymion was the son of the Protogeneia, she half meaning and half not meaning by that name the dawn who gave birth to the sun ; or of Kalyke, the dark and covering Night. This name, once touched, would set many chords vibrating ; three or four different reasons might be given (as they really were given by ancient poets) why Endymion fell into this everlasting sleep, and if any one of these was alluded to by a popular poet, it became a mythological fact, i-epeated by later poets ; so that Endymion grew at last almost into a type, no longer of the setting sun, but of a handsome boy be- loved of a chaste maiden, and therefore a most likely name for a young prince. Many myths have thus been transferred to real persons, by a mere similarity of name, though it must be admitted that there is no his- torical evidence whatsoever that there ever was a prince of Elis, called by the name of Endymion. Such is the growth of a legend, originally a mere word, a /j.S0os, probably one of those many words which have but a local currency, and lose their value if they are taken to distant places, words useless for the daily interchange of thought, spurious coins in the hands of the many, yet not thrown away, but preserved as curiosities and ornaments, and deciphered at last by the antiquarian, after the lapse of many centuries. Un- fortunately, we do not possess these legends as they passed originally from mouth to mouth in villages or mountain castles, legends such as Grimm has col- lected in his " Mythology," from the language of the poor people in Germany. We do not know them, as 82 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. they were told by the older members of a family, who spoke a language half intelligible to themselves and strange to their children, or as the poet of a rising city embodied the traditions of his neighborhood in a con- tinuous poem, and gave to them their first form and per- manence. Unless where Homer has preserved a local myth, all is arranged as a system ; with the " Theog- ony " as its beginning, the " Siege of Troy " as its centre, and the " Return of the Heroes " as its end. But how many parts of Greek mythology are never mentioned by Homer ! We then come to Hesiod a moralist and theologian, and again we find but a small segment of the mythological language of Greece. Thus our chief sources are the ancient chroniclers, who took mythology for history, and used of it only so much as answered their purpose. And not even these are preserved to us, but we only believe that they formed the sources from which later writers, such as Apollo- doros and the scholiasts, borrowed their information. The first duty of the mythologist is, therefore, to dis- entangle this cluster, to remove all that is systematic, and to reduce each myth to its primitive unsystematic form. Much that is unessential has to be cut away al- together, and after the rust is removed, we have to de- termine first of all, as with ancient coins, the locality, and, if possible, the age, of each myth, by the charac- ter of its workmanship ; and as we arrange ancient medals into gold, silver, and copper coins, we have to distinguish most carefully between the legends of gods, heroes, and men. If, then, we succeed in deciphering the ancient namos and legends of Greek or any other mythology, we learn that the past which stands before our eyes in Greek mythology, has had its present, that COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 83 there are traces of organic thought in these petrified relics, and that they once formed the surface of the Greek language. The legend of Endymion was pres- ent at the time when the people of Elis understood the old saying of the Moon (or Selene) rising under the cover of Night (or in the Latmian cave), to see and admire, in silent love, the beauty of the setting Sun, the sleeper Endymion, the son of Zeus, who had gi'anted to him the double boon of eternal sleep and everlasting youth. Endymion is not the Sun in the divine character of Phoibos Apollon, but a conception of the Sun in his daily course, as rising early from the womb of Dawn, and after a short and brilliant career, setting in the evening, never to return again to this mortal life. Similar conceptions occur in most mythologies. In Betshuana, an Afiican dialect, " the sun sets " is ex- pressed by "the sun dies." 1 In Aryan mythology the Sun viewed in this light is sometimes represented as divine, yet not immortal ; sometimes as living, but sleeping ; sometimes as a mortal beloved by a goddess, yet tainted by the fate of humanity. Thus, " Titho- nos," a name that has been identified with the Sanskrit u didhyftnaA," a brilliant, expressed originally the idea of the Sun in his daily or yearly character. He also, like Endymion, does not enjoy the full immortality of Zeus and Apollon. Endymion retains his youth, but is doomed to sleep. Tithonos is made immortal, but as Eos forgot to ask for his eternal youth, he pines away as a decrepit old man, in the arms of his ever youthful wife, who loved him when he was young, and 1 See Pott, Kuhn's Zeitschrifi, vol. ii. p. 109. 2 See Sonne, " On Charis," in Kuhn's Zeitschrlft, vol. x. p. 178. 84 COMPAEATIVE MYTHOLOGY. is kind to him in his old age. Other traditions, care- less about contradictions, or ready to solve them some- times by the most atrocious expedients, call Tithonos the son of Eos and Kephalos, as Endymion was the son of Protogeneia, the Dawn ; and this very freedom in handling a myth seems to show, that at first, a Greek knew what it meant if Eos was said to leave every morning the bed of Tithonos. As long as this expression was understood, I should say that the myth was present; it was passed when Tithonos had been changed into a son of Laomedon, a brother of Pria- mos, a prince of Troy. Then the saying, that Eos left his bed in the morning, became mythical, and had none but a conventional or traditional meaning. Then, as Tithonos was a prince of Troy, his son, the Ethio- pian Memnon, had to take part in the Trojan war. And yet how strange ! even then the old myth seems to float through the dim memory of the poet ! for when Eos weeps for her son, the beautiful Mem- non, her tears are called "morning-dew," so that the past may be said to have been still half-present. As we have mentioned Kephalos as the beloved of Eos, and the father of Tithonos, we may add, that Kephalos also, like Tithonos and Endymion, was one of the many names of the Sun. Kephalos, however, was the rising sun the head of light, an expression frequently used of the sun in different mythologies. In the Veda, where the sun is addressed as a horse, the head of th^ horse is an expression meaning the risin'g sun. Inus, the poet says (Rv. I. 163, 6), "I have known through my mind thyself when it was still far thee, the bird flying up from below the sky ; I saw a head with wings, toiling on smooth and dust- COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 85 less paths." The Teutonic nations speak of the sun as the eye of Wuotan, as Hesiod speaks of HO.VTO. [Slav Albs btjiOa.\nbs Kai TCO.VTO. voijtras ; and they also call the sun the face of their god. 1 In the Veda, again, the sun is called (I. 115, 1) "the face of the gods," or " the face of Aditi " (I. 113, 19) ; and it is said that the winds obscure the eye of the sun by showers of rain (V. 59, 5). A similar idea led the Greeks to form the name of Kephalos ; and if Kephalos is called the son of Herse the Dew, this patronymic meant the same in mythological language that we should express by the sun rising over dewy fields. What is told of Kepha- los is, that he was the husband of Prokris, that he loved her, and that they vowed to be faithful to one another. But Eos also loves Kephalos ; she tells her love, and Kephalos, true to Prokris, does not accept it. Eos, M'ho knows her rival, replies, that he might remain faithful to Prokris, till Prokris had broken her vo\v. Kephalos accepts the challenge, approaches his wife disguised as a stranger, and gains her love. Pro- kris, discovering her shame, flies to Kreta. Here Diana gives her a dog and a spear, that never miss their aim, and Prokris returns to Kephalos disguised as a huntsman. While hunting with Kephalos, she is asked by him to give him the dog and the spear. She promises to do so only in return for his love, and when he has assented, she discloses herself, and is again accepted by Kephalos. Yet Prokris fears the charms of Eos ; and while jealously watching her husband, she is killed by him unintentionally, by the spear that never misses its aim. 1 Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, p. 666. 86 COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. Before we can explain this myth, which, however, is told with many variations by Greek and Latin poets, we must dissect it, and reduce it to its constituent elements. The first is " Kephalos loves Prokris." Prokris we must explain by a reference to Sanskrit, where " prush " and "prish" mean to sprinkle, and are used chiefly with reference to rain-drops. For instance (Rv. I. 168, 8) : " The lightnings laugh down upon the earth, when the winds shower forth the rain." The same root in the Teutonic languages has taken the sense of " frost ;" and Bopp identifies " prush " with O. H. G. " frus," " frigere." In Greek we must refer to the same root TT/)O>, irpwKos, a dew-drop, and also " Prfikris," the dew. 1 Tims, the wife of Kephalos is only a repetition of Herse, her mother, " Herse," dew, being derived from Sanskrit " vrish," 2 to sprinkle ; 1 1 see no reason to modify this etymology of " Prokris." " Prish " in Sanskrit means to sprinkle, and '' prishita" occurs in the sense of shower, in " vidyut-stanayitnu-prishiteshu," " during lightning, thunder, and rain," Gobh. 3, 3, 15, where Professor Roth ingeniously, but without ne- cessity, suspects the original reading to have been " prushita." " Prishat," fern. " prishati," means sprinkled, and is applied to a speckled deer, a speckled cow, a speckled horse. "Prishata," too, has the same meaning, but is likewise used in the sense of drops. "Prush," a cognate root, means in Sanskrit to sprinkle, and from it we have " prushva," the rainy season, and " prushva," a drop, but more particularly a frozen drop, or frost. Now, it is perfectly true, that the final sh of "prish" or "prush" is not regularly represented in Greek by a guttural consonant. But we find that in Sanskrit itself the lingual sh of this root varies with the pala- tal s, for instance, in " pris-ni," speckled ; and Professor Curtius has rightly traced the Greek n-epx-vd*, spotted, back to the same root as the Sanskrit " pris-ni," and has clearly established for irpo' and wpoicas, the original meaning of a speckled deer. From the same root, therefore, not only TrpuSf, a dew-drop, but npoie-pis also may be derived, in the sense of dew or hoar-frost, the derivative syllable being the same as in vejS-pi'i, or U-piy, gen. ios or iSos. 2 This derivation of ep